The Audacity of Change
by CyraBear
Summary: Bella has just moved to Seattle looking for a new start.  She starts working two jobs, making friends and flirting with guys.  Too bad the one she's really interested seems out of her reach.
1. Wide Open Spaces

"I should warn you, this place is populated by skanks and losers."

Bella Swan looked up at the voice that had startled her out of her intense reverie. She had been thinking about tacos. She hadn't had a decent taco since she moved here. Not to mention the complete dearth of _carne asada_. People in the Pacific Northwest had no concept of good Mexican food.

The girl who had addressed her was wiping down the bar at Jake's. It was unclear whether she was bending over like that for the sole purpose of scrubbing up beer rings or in order to display her rather extravagant cleavage. Bella suspected that the girl was aware, but that she didn't really care. She had that look. The look of, "I don't give a shit who looks, but if you touch you lose a gonad."

Not having the aforementioned appendages, Bella was able to look away from the Grand Canyon looming before her in a relatively short amount of time. "Do you think so?" she murmured. She really wasn't sure if the girl's gambit was intended to be a conversation starter, or if she was just pissed at the world and wanted to share.

"I know so. I've been working here for three years, and I have yet to see an exception to the rule. Except Jake, I guess. He may be losing but he's not a loser, if you get what I mean."

Bella didn't. She stared at the girl, silently willing her to continue.

She shot a look at Bella, who got her first good look at the girl's face, and nearly swallowed her tonsils. She was hot. Smoking hot. Honey blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Electric blue eyes lined with angry black kohl set in a Victoria's Secret model's face. With a Victoria's Secret model's body to go with it.

"I'm Rosalie," Blondie went on. "I'm the manager. You waiting for Jake?"

"Yeah," Bella said uncertainly. "He's going to bring my W-2s and all that stuff."

"About time. I've been bugging him to hire someone for the past fucking month. You start tonight?"

Bella nodded.

"There are some shirts in the back. You can go look through them and find one that fits while you're waiting."

Bella took this to be an order, not an invitation. She slid from the barstool she had been perched on and headed in the general direction that Rosalie had indicated.

"What's your name, chica?" Rosalie called after her.

"Oh…" Bella turned around, awkwardly. "I'm Bella. Bella Swan."

Rosalie nodded. "Good to meet you, Bella Swan." It sounded more like she was saying, "rot in hell, bitch," but Bella tried to take the words at face value.

She was rummaging through a box of camisoles and tank tops, looking for something she could actually wear, when she heard her new boss' booming voice out in the bar. "Where you at, Shorts?" he shouted.

"I'm back here," she yelled back, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous nickname he had slapped on her as soon as he hired her. What the hell? _Everyone_ was short to that guy.

"Getting a head start? Stay out of the Patron, newbie, or I'll kick you to the curb." Jake appeared at the door of the store room, smiling his characteristic blinding grin.

"You'd have to catch me first, Sasquatch," she flung back at him.

He threw his head back and laughed. "It's not my fault that you have midget blood in you," he snickered.

"And it's not my fault your mother was second cousin to the Jolly Green Giant."

"Hey, no messing with my mother. I'll send your paychecks to Anchorage 'by mistake.'" He knelt down next to her, watching her sift through the box furiously. "Not finding anything?"

She shot a look at him. "I can't wear tank tops," she mumbled.

"Still healing up from your last boob job?"

"Yeah. 'Cause if I wanted an upgrade I would go with a B cup." She sat back, scowling. "Don't you have any grownup's shirts?"

"Not unless you want one of mine, and I would pay money to see this, by the way. I can order you something, though."

"Thanks."

"You'll get better tips if you wear one of these, though," he said with a wink.

Bella snorted. "Watch it with the caveman comments. I have ways of making you pay."

He laughed again and bounded to his feet, hauling her with him. "Come on, Shorts. Let's get you set up."

Jake's Bar was a seedy dive in the University District in downtown Seattle. Settled in a small farmhouse style building on a dead-end street with peeling paint and a sagging front porch, it was mostly patronized by students looking to rub up against each other and pretend they were slumming. All in all, it was an amicable arrangement on all sides.

Bella loved it.

Having been basically a good girl for each of her twenty-five years, she had been immediately attracted to the slightly disreputable atmosphere at Jake's. She felt like someone was going to start a fight or a serenade at any moment.

This being her first night, she was relegated to bussing tables and cleaning up spilled beer all night long. Jake let her wear the shirt that she came in with, but insisted that she put on a little black apron so that she looked like a working drone.

The other "drones," if one were foolish enough to refer to them as such, included three Sorority Girl Barbie clones named Tanya, Kate and Irina. "Dumb as rocks, but basically okay," was how Rosalie classified them. "They live together, go to school together, and work together. It's like an _E! Network_ reality show."

The bartender was a big burly guy, not much shorter than Jake, named Garrett. He was extremely friendly, peppering Bella with questions every chance he got.

"Where you from?" he asked her casually while wiping down glasses as she refilled the ice box.

"Phoenix."

"What brought you up here?"

"A car."

"Where you staying?"

"An apartment."

"Got any roommates?"

"No."

"Got a personality?"

"Not tonight."

"Got a boyfriend?"

"You volunteering?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Sweet."

She grinned at him and went off to clear more tables.

The two bouncers, Quil and Embry, were Quileutes like Jake. They reminded Bella of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis on PCP. They were passionately interested in the three barmaids, and quizzed them incessantly about their showering habits.

All in all, it was a good crew.

"Bella!" Rosalie yelled to her over the noise and the music. "Clear table five."

Bella looked up and saw that the group of rowdy frat boys who had occupied the corner booth had left. "You forgot to say the magic word," she muttered and grabbed a tub. It wasn't like she wouldn't have gotten to it.

She was gathering cocktail napkins and wadding them into a ball when someone slid into the booth.

She looked up. "I'll be done here in just a second," she said…and then the English language deserted her.

The guy who had slid into the booth _could not_ be for real.

"Whatever," he grunted. "I'll have a Sam Adams."

She just stood, her mouth open. He may as well have asked her for directions to Betelgeuse for all the sense his words made.

He eyed her malevolently. "You do serve beer here, don't you?"

"Uh…yeah. One second." She fumbled for the rest of the debris on the table, nearly spilling a half-empty glass.

She heard him inhale sharply and scoot away from her, clearly wishing to avoid being baptized by beer.

Her cheeks burning in humiliation, Bella wiped down the table, trying not to stare at him. She was sure – she was positive, rather – that she'd never seen a better looking guy in her entire life. McSteamy, McDreamy, and MacGuyver were all skinny fry guys at McDonalds compared to him. His jaw was so sharp it looked like it would cut her skin should he choose to nuzzle her shoulder. His tousled bronze hair, like a crazy mash-up of blond and red, was clearly put on this earth specifically for a woman to run her fingers through. His thick eyebrows gave him a kind of wild caveman look that contrasted weirdly with the stark perfection of his face. She could see that his eyes were light, but she couldn't catch the color in the dim light of the bar. He was dressed all in black.

_Roll over, Johnny Cash. You have met your doom._

He continued to eye her as if she was showing signs of becoming dangerous. Her blush deepened and she hauled the tub off the table, spinning around and nearly falling on her face as she stumbled back to the bar.

"Garrett," she hissed, sidling up to the bartender. "Who the fuck is _that_?"

Garrett looked up. "Who?"

"The guy in the corner booth. The one who looks like sin with a side of mayo."

"That guy?" Garrett pointed, and Bella grabbed his finger and shoved it down.

"Yes, that guy. Don't _point_. Were you born in a barn?"

"Jeez, what crawled up your ass? I have no idea who that guy is. Don't think I've seen him in here before."

"Well, he wants a Sam Adams." Suddenly mortified by her extreme reaction to the guy's Adonis face and David body, Bella started unloading glasses. She darted a glance at the corner booth. The guy was currently having a staring match with the tabletop. And she thought he was winning.

"Sure." They worked in silence for a minute before Garrett cleared his throat. "Um, am I going to have to turn the hose on you, young lady?"

"Bite me," she hissed, dropping her eyes.

"Don't tempt me, shuga." He slid the glass of beer he had just pulled towards her. "Well? Are you going to take it over to him?"

"What? No!" She jumped back. "I'm supposed to be bussing tonight."

Garrett rolled his eyes. "Just take him the drink, girl. Unless you want me to get Kate or Tanya to do it." He nodded over to the two plastic blow-up dolls currently flirting with a table of businessmen.

Bella glared at him. "You are a low excuse for a human being." She snatched up the glass and stalked over to the corner booth.

"Here you go," she said, slamming it down on the table with more force than strictly necessary. "Anything else right now?"

"No, it's fine," he grumbled, and lifted the glass.

Bella stood, her mouth slightly open, and watched in fascination as he drained about a third of the glass. His Adam's apple bobbed. Tingles erupted on her arms and she wondered what those fingers would feel like wrapped around something besides a sweating glass of beer.

"Can I do anything else for you?" he asked her.

She jumped. "Ah…" she coughed. "Do you want to open a tab?"

"Oh." He reached for his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Sure."

He handed her his credit card and of _course_ their fingers had to brush when she took it. Electric shocks skittered up her arm.

As she retreated back to the bar, she read the name on the card. _Edward Masen_.

After that, Jake's got too busy for her to spend more time embarrassing herself with Edward Masen. She was beginning to wonder if there was any beer left in the state of Washington by the time two o'clock rolled around. Her feet ached. Her back ached. Her head ached.

At some point, Edward Masen ambled up to the bar and talked to Jake for a while, who was helping Garrett pull drinks. Bella paused in counting change to a young couple. When he'd been sitting in the booth, he'd slouched horribly, his shoulders hunched and his head down. She suspected it was all an elaborate ruse to hide the fact that he was tall. Tall and muscular. Tall and muscular and sinuously graceful like a freaking jungle cat. She wondered if he worked out. Swordfighting, taekwondo, all those sexy nerdy things that hot guys did. He paid his tab, threw some bills on the table and slouched out without looking up at her.

Which was kind of a good thing, because she had been caught staring at him only eight or ten times that night.

At two forty-five, Jake glanced over at Bella mopping the floor. "Why don't you head home, Shorts? You look like you're going to keel over."

"I'm okay," she mumbled, not wanting to be the lightweight new girl.

"You're several area codes away from okay," Rosalie said, and shoved a wad of bills at her. "Here's your cut. Go home, sleep, see you tomorrow night."

Too tired to argue, and elated by the unexpected jackpot, Bella nodded and went to take off her apron and grab her stuff from the back.

"You did good tonight," Garrett said over his shoulder as he moved boxes around on the shelves. "I think we'll keep you."

"I'm ecstatic," she said. "See you tomorrow."

She got lost once on her way to her new apartment, tripped over a stack of boxes near the door, and nearly hogtied herself getting out of her jeans. Still, as she fell into bed, there was a smile on her face.

For the first time in two years, she was at peace. With life, the universe, and everything.


	2. Eight Days a Week

Luckily for Bella, Ike's Coffee had tee shirts instead of tanks for their employees to wear.

Bella selected a small and ducked into the bathroom to change. She was surprised and delighted that the manager of the little coffee shop two doors down from Jake's had hired her on the spot and asked if she could start right away. Job-hunting foreplay was not her thing.

"Looks good." Esme looked her over and nodded. "That's a nice color for you."

"Yeah?" Bella glanced down at the dark blue shirt. "Cool."

Esme was a small, delicate looking woman with caramel colored hair and hazel eyes. She appeared to be about thirty, but she had an aura of mom-ness that Bella associated with older women. She looked like she probably had a husband, three kids, four cats, a dog, and a tank full of fish at home.

"I'm really glad you came in," Esme said, handing her a bunch of paperwork to read and sign. "My regular Friday girl up and quit five days ago, and Alice and I have been insane ever since. She's the other manager. She'll be coming in at three, so she'll be training you. You'll like Alice. She's…perky."

"It must be the coffee," Bella said, nodding sagely.

Esme laughed. "It soaks into your skin after a while. You find yourself permanently buzzed. Or crashing. It's a vicious cycle.

"So, you're new in town, huh?" Esme slid onto the stool next to her and watched as Bella filled out her forms. "Where are you from?"

"Phoenix."

"Wow. Kind of an extreme change for you."

"Yeah. That was what I was going for."

"So…why the big move?"

Bella gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It was time for a fresh start. Something completely different, you know?"

"So you just packed up and left?" Esme sighed. "Ah, the joys of singledom. No kids or husband to drag along. No mortgage, no PTA..."

Bella laughed. "I knew you were a mom. How many?"

"Two, a boy and a girl. My little one just started the first grade. I got this job because I couldn't stand staying home alone all day."

"I get that." Bella smiled and thought about all the days she'd spent lounging around the house with nothing to do but watch Animal Planet.

"So, I usually have the mornings, and Alice takes the evenings. We have two other employees, Seth and Leah. Right now we're just scheduling two at a time, so you won't see them that much. Just me and Alice."

Bella nodded. "It's a good thing I don't hate you, then."

Esme snickered. "The day is young."

"How late do you stay open?" Bella asked.

"Usually six, unless it's completely dead."

"That's good. I'm going to be working nights at a bar down the street, so I'll never have a conflict."

"Two jobs?" Esme's eyebrow arched. "Are you an insomniac or something?"

Bella shook her head. "Nope, just young, broke and fabulous."

"I hear ya, sista. How well I remember the days of ramen noodles and peanut butter." Esme rolled her eyes. "Trust me, it won't last forever. Which bar?"

"Jake's."

"Really? Jake's a good guy." Esme peeked up at her slyly. "Not too shabby looking, either."

Bella giggled. "He's hot, I must admit. But I would hate to be known as the girl who climbed on the boss to climb up the ladder."

Esme all but shrieked with laughter. "And here I've been fantasizing about cornering you in the supply room."

Alice found the two of them giggling madly when she walked in.

"Esme, stop snorting the Columbian Supreme and work," she admonished, pulling off her raincoat.

"Wow, I didn't know you could snort coffee," Bella said.

"It's the only way to fly." The tiny brunette's eyes rested on Bella's almost-completed paperwork. "You climbing on board? Thank God. I was about to put out an ad in Hookers Weekly if it would get us another pair of hands. I'm Alice Brandon."

"I'm Bella, Bella Swan." She held out her hand, which Alice bypassed and came right in for a hug.

At five-foot-four, Bella had never been in the back row in school photos. But with Esme at about five-two and Alice even shorter, she felt like Brigitte Nielsen towering over the Surreal Life crew.

"At my other job, I'm surrounded by freaking giant guys and girls in stilettos," she commented. "I'm going to have to adjust my angles on a daily basis working with you two."

"No knocking the short girls," Alice said, giggling. "We fight dirty."

She quickly learned that Esme and Alice were like two female Teletubbies. They giggled, they hugged, they loved everyone. When Esme took off ten minutes later, it was with an enthusiastic embrace and a promise to get to know each other better soon.

"Wow. You guys are like the Welcome Wagon of Seattle. Is there anyone you don't hug?"

Alice pretended to consider. "I don't hug Republicans."

"You do know I'm from Arizona, right? The Land of the Free-Range Rednecks?"

"Oh, that's okay, we'll fix you."

Alice seemed to be on Garrett's wavelength, because she quizzed Bella incessantly in between teaching her how to build coffees and run the shop. "So, how long have you been in town?"

"About two weeks. I've been working my other job for a week now. It's going good."

"Yeah? You sure you're going to be able to handle two jobs?"

"I hope so. But they're both only part time, anyway."

"In a perfect world. But the other baristas here are both flakes, so you may get called in for extra shifts."

"That's cool with me. I'd like to expand my diet from Campbell's soup and Spaghetti-Os sometime soon."

"Wow, you _are_ living large."

Bella was doing another impersonation of a zombie on NyQuil by the time they closed up at five-thirty. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been awake for so long.

"Why don't you go home and take a nap?" Alice said. "I can close. I know that first days are exhausting."

"You have no idea," Bella groaned, sitting with her head on the counter. "Thanks. I'll make it up to you."

"Hells yes, you will. Go. No fainting in my shop."

She'd been afraid that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep and get a good snooze in before heading over to Jake's at eight, but her fears were unfounded. She was out the second that her head hit the couch.

When she awoke with a start, disoriented and aching, the shadows on the walls were all different. She nearly fell off the couch in her haste to grab her phone and check the time.

7:45. Praise the Lord.

Rising from the couch, she stripped off her blue Ike's polo and ran into her bedroom, searching for the new girl-cut tee shirt that Jake had presented her with the night before. She pulled it on and grabbed her purse before bolting out the door, then had to come back to grab her keys and phone.

_Thank God I don't have to find a place to park,_ she thought as she sprinted the five blocks from her apartment to Jake's.

•••

"Aren't you just the punctual one?" Rosalie said from behind the bar when Bella skidded in at eight on the nose.

"Sorry," she wheezed. "I got a day job today, and crashed out on the couch when I got home. I set my phone alarm for AM instead of PM."

"Right on," Rosalie seemed unimpressed. "Way to make an entrance. Your eye makeup is all wacked out, by the way."

Bella groaned. She darted into the back room to ditch her stuff and try to fix her eyes in the cracked mirror.

"Here," Rosalie said from behind her, handing her a small bag. "Go to town. Don't use my lipstick, it'll look awful on you."

"Thanks," Bella said in surprise. "Aren't you afraid of Bella cooties?"

"Your cooties don't scare me, girl. I gots three older brothers."

Bella used Rosalie's mascara and a little black eyeliner to fix the crazy Brad Pitt in_ 12 Monkeys_ look she had going on, threw on an apron, and rushed back out into the bar.

"We have live music at nine," Rosalie informed her. "A couple of local guys. It'll probably get a little nuts. You ready to be on your own?"

Bella swallowed. "No."

"Good. You've got the strip. Have fun."

Bella looked over at the section of booths against the wall known as the strip. Only two were occupied, and the others were all clean. She went over and checked on the two tables, then went back to the bar and Rosalie.

"You need any help?" she asked as she slid onto a barstool.

Rosalie shook her head. "Good right now." The blonde tossed her hair and eyed Bella critically. "You need some serious assistance with your technique, girl. Come over this Sunday and we'll work on it, okay? I'll make nachos."

Bella just about fell out of her chair. "Huh? You're inviting me over?"

"Do any of these guys need professional advice with their makeup?" Rosalie nodded to the five or six guys sitting at the bar.

"No…"

"Then don't argue. Bring some wine."

Bella gaped at her.

"What?" Rosalie asked in irritation. "Who else in this dive am I going to hang out with? The Teflon Triplets? I'm working my way through grad school. I need human companionship with someone who doesn't think that vampire novels are classic literature."

Bella blinked and tilted her head. "I have been known to read vampire novels."

"I forgive you. As long as you know that Frank Lloyd Wright didn't fly the first airplane, we're good."

"What are you studying?"

"Engineering."

Bella toppled out of her chair.

"Jeez, girl, do you have an inner ear problem?"

"I thought you were going to say 'fashion' or 'advertising,'" Bella said, her mouth hanging open as she clambered back onto the stool.

"Don't make me gag. You've got customers."

Bella turned around and spotted a few girls settling into a booth. With a last awed look at Rosalie, who replied with a roll of the eyes and a shooing gesture with one hand, she tripped over to greet her customers.

"Hi, ladies," she said, her hand on her hip. "How's it going tonight?"

"Good," one of the girls said absently. "You got any drink specials?"

"Two for one drafts start at nine."

"Is that when Edward's playing?"

"Uh, someone's playing. One of them may or may not be an Edward."

The girl nodded. "Yeah. We'll, uh, have a couple of cosmos."

"Sure." Bella pursed her lips. "Can I see some ID?"

The girl scowled. "I didn't bring it in," she muttered.

"How about a Coke, then?" Bella said knowingly, and was rewarded with a glare and a nod. "You?" She asked the girl's companion.

"I forgot it," she said sheepishly. "I'll have a Sprite."

"7-Up okay?"

"Sure."

"Coming right up."

Bella trooped back to the bar. "A Coke and a 7-Up for the forgetful ladies without ID," she said to Garrett.

He looked up and scowled. "Why did the Numbnuts Twins let them in?"

"We can only speculate."

"Shit. Keep an eye on them. Make sure no one buys them anything."

"Got it." Bella felt an evil grin coming on.

Business started to pick up just before the musicians were scheduled to start playing. Bella was doing her best impression of a belly dancer, slithering through the crowds with trays balanced on her shoulder. She prayed that people would settle down and drink for a while when the music fired up.

All such thoughts fled from her mind, however, when she heard the voice that came over the sound system.

His voice sounded like the fusion of Van Morrison, Tracy Chapman and Ben Harper, and played the keys like John Schmidt. Her hands went slack at her sides, staring blankly up at the stage.

It was him.

The guy from last week, the grouchy guy who had ordered a Sam Adams. The grouchy guy who looked like Seattle's answer to Rob Lowe.

_Oh, God, I think I'm going to come in my jeans._

His voice – that sexy, reedy tenor that sounded like dark chocolate over strawberries – seemed to shoot right down to her stomach and beyond, causing heat to spread all across her skin. To her breasts and her thighs and her little girly bits.

_Careful, girl. Don't let your mind go there. Just…work. Yeah, work._

"I need a pitcher of Bud and an Appletini," she shouted to Garrett when she reached the bar.

"Got it. Hey, your boyfriend's back." He nodded up to the musicians

"Thank you, I noticed." She shot a glance up towards the stage…

And found herself staring into a pair of gorgeous, gleaming green eyes.


	3. Hello

_Happy New Year, campers! Our special tonight is one of my very favorites...voyeur Edward. I hope he meets with your satisfaction.

* * *

_

_Holy shit, it's Pink Panties._

Edward had been trying for the past week to figure out where he'd seen that barmaid before, and now that he knew, he wished he didn't. Because in five minutes, he was going to have to get up in front of all these people – and her – and perform.

"Jazz," he hissed, trying to get the guitar player's attention. Jasper, unfortunately, was engrossed in tuning, and didn't hear him. _Shit._

"Uh, good evening, everybody," the owner, Jake, addressed the crowd, a big mofo who looked like he could bench press the Sistine Chapel. "Thanks for coming out tonight. The guys who are going to play for us haven't found themselves a clever handle, so I have the incredibly awkward pleasure of introducing Jasper and Edward. Give 'em a hand."

While he waited for the applause to die down, Edward scanned the crowd, trying to find Pink Panties. She had disappeared into the crowd. Damn. He didn't know what was worse, seeing her there and knowing she was listening or _not_ seeing her there and knowing she was listening.

Unless by some miracle she had slipped out for her break and planned to be gone for the next two hours.

"Edward," Jasper hissed, and Edward blinked.

"Oh. Hey, guys," he spoke into the boom mic positioned over the piano. "Thanks for coming. We're going to start with some covers, and later on we'll get into some original stuff. We'll, ah, yeah." He fumbled and grinned as he heard a gaggle of coeds hooting.

He started playing, and the joint quieted down. Damn good thing that he knew most of these songs frontwards and backwards, otherwise he was liable to get distracted and screw up royally.

He caught sight of a bobbing auburn ponytail weaving through the crowd and nearly choked on the first note of a Lifehouse cover.

_Focus, Edward._

He kept his eyes on the keys as he played, but he could still see her turn in his direction out of the corner of his eye. And then some tall guy crossed in front of her and Edward lost sight of her.

It was all just a little too _déjà vu._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Edward tried not to relive the night he'd first seen her, over two weeks ago. His stupid brain, however, refused to cooperate.

He would swear in a court of law that he had not been trying to spy on cute girls. The light had been perfect, the sun setting slowly in the west, when he got home from class that day. He immediately shook off his coat and went over to his camera, set up on its tripod at the window. The city spread out before him in all its misty glory, and the historic buildings that marched down the hill glowed in the fading orange light. He fiddled with the zoom on the camera, looking for a good composition, and went too far. The camera focused in on a window of a building several blocks away. A window that was thrown open, revealing the living area and part of the kitchen. And the girl who was unpacking inside.

She was on the phone, talking, as she pulled books out of a cardboard box. She was stacking them on the floor next to an empty bookcase.

In a flash of genius, Edward deduced that she was just moving in.

Her auburn hair had been pulled up in a ponytail, unlike the night a week ago that he'd seen her here at the bar. When he focused his lens, he saw that she was sweating, little tendrils of hair escaping their confines to lie damply against her neck and temples.

She was wearing a black camisole and shorts that looked like lycra or spandex. Her long, long legs were tucked under her until she pushed the empty box away and shifted to face the bookcase, which required that she twist at the waist and stick her cute little butt in the air.

Edward recalled how the sight had made all the blood in his body abandon its assigned duty and head for his groin.

She rocked back and forth, grabbing books from the pile and reaching to slide them onto the shelf. He figured that _Girl Filling Bookcase_ would be a way better porn movie than any of the _Girls Gone Wild_ series.

When all the books were taken care of, she stood up and threw the box into a jumbled pile in one corner. Then she stretched.

One arm above her head, the other still holding the phone, she arched her back and stood up on her toes, then grabbed one foot and pulled it back behind her like a freaking contortionist. His hands sweating, Edward adjusted the zoom for a closer look. Her camisole rode up, exposing a slice of her abdomen.

She said goodbye to whoever was on the phone and threw it on a chair behind her, then grabbed the opposite foot and repeated her mad Gumby routine. This time, she held the foot with both hands and pulled it _above her head_. He was sure that her freaking femur was going to break.

Then she turned and walked towards a doorway at the far end of the apartment, gathering the hem of her cami and pulling it up as she went.

His throat went dry. A crazy buzzing started in his ears. But that was all she allowed – she passed into the other room before he could get a glimpse of anything more than a generous peek of her back.

Breathing fast, Edward pulled away from the camera. He searched the skyline until he located her building. Using his weak human eyes, he could see that her window was open and the light was on inside, but deduced that he never would have caught sight of her without Mr. Nikon's help.

She was on the fifth floor, the third window from the right.

Swallowing, he put his eye to the viewfinder again. She was still in the other room, presumably. He studied the apartment. It looked like a cardboard bomb had gone off. Boxes, newspaper, random stacks of dishes and other domestic debris were scattered on the floor. An overstuffed chair and couch were arranged around an entertainment center packed with DVDs. A small TV – he wasn't sure, but it looked like one of the pre-flat screen variety – sat inside.

The walls were completely bare, but he thought he could make out the edge of a stack of picture frames propped against the couch.

A small table and two chairs were set up in the dining area, piled high with boxes. One of the boxes had tipped over and a lava flow of clothes had spilled out.

His eyes snapped away from the table when she reentered the living room. And then his jaw dropped.

She had changed into a long-sleeved Henley shirt of soft gray. Her shorts were gone. In their place was a pair of carnation pink panties of the boyshort persuasion. He could see her navel – unpierced. When she approached the table and started rummaging through the contents of the exploded box, he could see in profile one adorable cheek of her tush peeking out from beneath the pink panties.

His soul cried out in mourning when she located a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants and shimmied into them. Though he figured that he would pay money to see that shimmy again.

She stretched again, both hands over her head, and rolled her shoulders. Then she walked straight towards the window.

Instinctively he jerked back, irrationally sure that she'd seen him. However, when he located her window again with his human eyes, he saw that she had pulled the windows shut.

And the goddam glare from the sun setting completely obscured his view of her apartment.

Breathing hard, Edward leaned back against the wall. He was hard as a fucking rock, his blood pounding in his ears. And he was roundly cursing the tilt of the Earth's axis that had cruelly positioned the sunset so inconveniently in the west.

Then he remembered that he was a total ass.

He was using his camera, with its telephoto zoom and manual focus, to spy on a half-naked girl in an apartment three blocks away. A girl who clearly had no clue that Peeping Toms with high tech equipment roamed the streets of Seattle, horny and drooling for fresh meat.

_God, kill me now._

He shut his window and pulled the blind, forgetting completely the perfect light outside, and flung himself on the couch. He willed his body to forget, just fucking forget what he had fed into its memory banks.

Yeah. Right.

He turned on the TV in an attempt to distract himself. _Jersey Shore_ and _America's Got Talent_, however, were not suitably entrancing to make him forget what he'd just seen. He was watching Bobby Flay sauté shrimp with goat cheese or something disgusting like that when he noticed – to his complete shock – this his palm was currently stroking the underside of his wood.

_Shit. You cannot jack off while thinking about that girl, asshole_. That would just be _wrong._

He leapt up from the couch and paced awhile.

He went and looked in the refrigerator and found nothing he felt like eating.

Then he sat down at his piano and began to tinker. And something magical happened.

* * *

He and Jasper were wrapping up their kick-ass cover of _Hello_ by Lionel Richie when Edward's hands started to sweat again. _God, here comes the end of my life._

"Thanks," Jasper said. "Now, uh, the Prince of the Ivories back there –" he grinned and waited for the hooting to die down , "-is going to play one of his original compositions. It's a pretty new song, and he swears that it's not based on a true story. You judge."

Glaring at Jasper, because he had sworn no such thing and would be lying if he did, Edward cleared his throat and hit a G, then began to sing. A few seconds later he came in on the keys.

_If I knew your name_

_I don't think it would ease this pain_

_Still, the question remains –_

_What do I call you?_

'_Cause I speak to you in the night_

_I watch you in the hours before daylight_

_It isn't fair, it isn't right_

_Still, it's all for you._

As Edward sang the song that he'd written the first night that he saw Pink Panties, he thought back to the night last week that he'd seen her here. He'd been in a bad fucking mood because he hated schmoozing for gigs. The bouncer had told him that Jake wouldn't be back for an hour or so, so he hunkered down in a booth to wait. The girl who was cleaning it off looked up at him. He'd stared at her, trying to figure out how he knew her.

In his own defense, he'd only seen her once before, through a telephoto lens. Her hair was in two braids that just reached her shoulders, which made her look very different than she did with a ponytail. Still, he couldn't believe he hadn't known immediately who she was.

She had been staring right back at him. It had kind of weirded him out at the time – he assumed that she recognized him too and was trying to place him. It made him feel exposed, like he was waiting for a jury to deliver a verdict.

Now, Paranoid Edward was wondering if she really had seen him peeping and was considering screaming bloody murder.

_Yeah, because she used her bionic vision and saw you spying on her from three blocks away._

But she hadn't said anything, not even when he gave her his credit card and she looked down at it, reading his name.

He'd watched her surreptitiously for the next two hours – Jake was not the punctual type – and she got progressively cuter the longer he sat there. And he'd only had the one beer. He'd waited for her to come back to his table, but she never had. Instead, he was treated to a tall blonde with breasts like melons and a brain to match. She was too busy to make much of a pest of herself, but he'd seen the look in her eye. He'd have to watch his back next time he was there.

Watching the redhead's back…well, that was another story. He kept his eye on her as she leaned over tables to clear empties and wipe down. She was wearing a pair of jeans that made her ass look hotter than a June day in Memphis. The crewneck tee shirt she wore hugged her gentle curves in a demure yet sexy way that affected him way more than the skimpy tank tops that the other barmaids were wearing.

_Why didn't you figure out that she was Pink Panties, you idiot? That butt alone should have clued you in._

In his defense, Pink Panties was strictly fantasy for him. He had never really expected to run into her in real life.

Except for those times that he'd imagined walking by her building and running into her. Accidentally.

_I want you here in my arms_

_I want to know you and taste all your charms_

_Please, let me keep you safe from harm_

_I'm falling for you._

As he wrapped up the song that he'd written about her, he peeked up and saw her standing at the bar, holding a round tray to her chest. She was watching him. A shiver ran down his spine, and he thought about all the times in the past week that he'd casually looked through the viewfinder in his camera – which strangely, remained focused on the third window from the right on the fifth floor – only to see that her window was closed and he couldn't see a thing.

She didn't clap when the song ended, but the rest of the crowd seemed to like it a lot. He saw a couple of the sorority girls fan themselves with their hands, giggling, and rolled his eyes.

They launched into a song that Jasper had written about a girl who had cheated on him. It was considerably less sultry than the song he'd written for Pink Panties – he took out his anxiety on the keys, pounding out the notes a little harder than he probably should have. He saw her making the rounds to her tables, collecting empties and taking orders. He also saw the guys checking her out. He narrowed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the keys.

"Thanks," Jasper said to the crowd when the song ended. "We're going to take a short break right now, but we'll be back with some more covers in a little while."

Jasper switched his mic off and turned to Edward. "Dude, what is with you? You're playing a little loud. Is your monitor level okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," Edward said. "I know I was fucking up. I got…distracted."

Jasper just looked at him, arching one eyebrow.

"I saw someone I thought I knew."

Jasper's arms crossed over his chest.

"Okay, it's a girl. But that's all I'm saying right now. I don't even know if she's seeing anyone."

"Fine. Buy me a beer."

They wound their way through the crowd towards the bar, stopping and chatting several times along the way. More than one girl gave one or the other – or both – her number. Edward lost sight of Pink Panties.

When they finally made it to the bar, they ordered two drafts and stood talking to the bartender, Garrett. People came and chatted, then drifted away.

_Ah, there she is._

He caught sight of her clearing one of the booths. She was talking to Jake.

The gigantic dude was sitting at the booth, leaning with one elbow on the table. They talked earnestly to each other. He made her laugh a couple of times.

And then she took her phone out of her apron pocket and handed it to him. He hit a bunch of keys, then spoke briefly into it. They were both laughing when he handed it back to her.

_Shit_.

* * *

_All canon pairings in this story, eventually. Just FYI._

_Thanks to the ladies over at PTB. I forgot to mention them in chapters 1 and 2, but they've been a big help with rampant comma usage._

_In other news, this story has been nominated for a Twinklings Walk of Fame Award in the Hidden Gem category. Won't you go vote, if you feel the urge? _twinklingswfa . blogspot . com/p/story-nominees . html


	4. Everything You Want

_Welcome back to Chez Me. Tonight we're offering one gross violation of HIPA laws with a side of Jailbait. Please let us know if you need anything at all!_

* * *

Bella was clearing empties and wondering if she had the guts to go talk to the pianist when Jake came up behind her. "How you holdin' up, Shorts?"

"Just fine," she said, smiling at him. "Good crowd?"

"Good crowd. Those guys aren't bad." He scanned the bar. "They sure brought the hot, horny coeds out to play."

"Mmm. The estrogen is thick in the air."

"So, you look like you're picking things up fine. I was a little worried after your first day. I thought maybe you didn't have the stamina."

"Bite me, Bigfoot," she said indignantly. "I have plenty of stamina for this pansy-ass job."

Jake laughed. "Yeah, I see that now. You're doing great."

"It was a little hard at first. It's been a long time since I worked so much. It took a few days to get used to it."

"Jobs were few in Phoenix?"

She shrugged. "Life happens."

"So, I was wondering." Jake slid into the booth and leaned toward her. He barely had to look up at her from his seated position. "I don't want to cross any lines here, and I really don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything, but I was wondering if you might let me take you out to dinner sometime. You know, show you around town."

Bella blinked, taken aback. She had _not_ seen this coming.

"It's okay if you're not interested," he said hastily. "I really don't want to make our working relationship awkward or take advantage of you, or anything. You can feel totally free to say no, and we'll just forget the whole thing. I just –"

"Jake!" She giggled a little. "Don't freak out. I'd love to. Thanks for asking me."

"Really?" He perked up. "Because I know I'm your boss and everything, but I'd like to get to know you better –"

"Do you speak English?" she asked him, smiling. "I said I'd love to. I'll have to make sure I get the time off from both my jobs. When do you want to go?"

"Uh…" He seemed at a loss. "Well, you're off tomorrow from here. Are you working your other job?"

"From eight to three. After that I'm good."

"Awesome. How about five o'clock?"

"Perfect. I can take a little nap and a shower." She dug her phone out of her apron and handed it to him. "Plug in your digits, boss man."

He grinned and started tapping keys, eyeing her mischievously. Before she knew what he was up to, he lifted the phone and spoke into it. "Shit! Hide!" he said in a mock whisper. "The boss is coming!"

Bella shrieked with laughter. "Did you give yourself a ringtone? Jake!" She snatched her phone back from him and pulled up her contacts. He had named himself _Boss Man_.

"Oh, awesome," she said, rolling her eyes. "Now I feel totally comfortable with our relationship."

He looked at her anxiously. "I was just joking, Bella. I wouldn't –"

"Are you always this insecure?" she demanded. "I'm kidding."

"Fine. Five sharp, Shorts, or I'll write you up."

"Got it."

With a grin, he squeezed her arm gently and left her to finish busing the table.

Smiling, she went back to work. _How's that for fast work? _she thought to herself. _You've been in town for two weeks. Considering you haven't had a date for the past two and a half years..._

She shot a look over her shoulder and caught sight of Edward talking to the guitar player, whose name she couldn't remember. They were both turned with their backs to her. Sighing, she shrugged to herself. True, she would have preferred if _he_ had asked her out, but Jake was a nice guy - handsome, funny, built like a god. She could definitely do a lot worse.

When she got home at three a.m., she was so exhausted she could barely stand up. Her head was pounding and her feet were killing her. She toed off her shoes, shrugged off her jacket, and collapsed onto the couch. She didn't even turn out the light.

When she dragged her ass into the coffee shop the next morning at eight, running on four hours of sleep, Esme was busy pulling mochas and lattes and running the till. There was a line of four people. Groaning, Bella dumped her stuff off in the back and quickly washed her hands.

"Bella, thank God," Esme said with relief. "Seth called in sick this morning. Sounded like the vodka flu to me. Get me a large cap with two shots, will you?"

"Only if I get to keep it for myself," Bella said seriously.

"I'll fight you for it," the waiting customer said.

"Choose your weapons."

"A set of car keys and a tire iron."

"You win. I relinquish your coffee." Bella bowed her head in defeat.

When the shop was cleared, Bella hopped up on the counter and sipped the drink she'd finally had a chance to make for herself. "Why didn't you call me in this morning?"

"I knew you were at Jake's last night. What time did you get in?"

"Three." Bella leaned her head back against the wall and allowed the caffeine to soak into her internal organs. "Thank God I have tonight off."

"Any plans?"

Bella's eyes snapped open and she eyed Esme suspiciously. The little blonde was innocently wiping down the espresso machine. "Why? What have you heard?"

Esme turned, a surprised look on her face. "Nothing!" Then her eyes narrowed. "Wait, so you do have plans? Spill! Did you let some goofy frat boy turn your head?"

Bella shifted her eyes. "Um…no. Jake asked me if I wanted to go out."

Esme didn't say anything. Finally, Bella peeked back up at her.

Her eyes were wide as dinner plates, and her mouth was hanging open.

"What?" Bella asked uneasily. "Is he like a sex offender or something?"

"No! No, nothing like that. He's a really nice guy, Bella." Esme turned back to the machine and began scrubbing it with manic fervor.

"Esme…"

"No."

"You can't look at me like I've grown another boob and not dish. Come on."

"It's none of my business."

"It is if he breaks my heart. I'll start skipping work and skimming cash from the till. I'll go on a self-destructive shopping spree. I'll buy Uggs."

"Oh, dear, we can't have that." Esme tossed her rag into the sink and sighed. "Promise you won't tell that it was me who told you?"

"Swear." She held out her pinkie, but Esme ignored it.

"Um, Jake is kind of…emotionally unavailable, I guess you could say."

Bella snorted. "What, like he has communication issues? Commitment phobia?"

"No, not exactly."

"Gay?"

"No!" Esme rolled her eyes. "He's head over heels in love with my husband's receptionist."

"Huh?"

"I swear on my mother's false teeth. Carlisle is a pediatric doc with a private practice a few blocks away. Jake brought his little cousin in a few months ago, and Carlisle said that when he caught sight of Nessie, he nearly tripped over his own tongue. Cute girl." Esme tilted her head and looked at Bella critically. "He must have a thing for redheads. Anyway, he's been hanging out around the office ever since. You know, skulking in the parking lot. Coming in to 'chat.'"

"_Skulking_? Esme, Jake is too damn big to skulk."

Esme giggled. "That's why I know about it, actually. Carlisle says it's really funny to watch him try to hide behind the ficus tree and watch her."

Bella frowned. "I don't get it. If he's so hot for this chick, why would he invite me to dinner?"

"Well, I can't say for sure, but my guess would be that he doesn't feel right asking Nessie out. She's only twenty-one, and Jake must be – what? – thirty five?"

"I'm only twenty-five."

"Still. Would you go out with a seventeen-year-old boy?"

Bella shrugged. "Depends on how hot he is."

Esme smacked her shoulder. "As I've said, Jake's a good guy. You're out on your own; you've clearly lived a little. Nessie still lives with her parents. I can imagine how awkward it would be for her to introduce her six-foot-eight, thirty-five-year-old boyfriend to Mom and Pops."

"Hmmm." Bella chewed on a hangnail. "So, this date of ours may be an attempt to distract himself from Jailbait Nessie?"

"Let's not call her that, and we won't have a throwdown. Nessie's a sweet girl. I think she likes him, too."

"Damn it!" Bella chugged the last of her cappuccino. "My first date in two years, and I'm Rebound Girl. That's just perfect."

"Two years?" Esme clearly didn't believe it. "I don't believe it. You're a hot ticket, sweets."

Bella laughed, blushing. "Um, thanks. It's been kind of a dry spell."

"Well, call me tomorrow and tell me how the date went. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he's just obsessed with the artwork in Carlisle's waiting room. You know that generic abstract shit that all doctors seem to buy in bulk?"

Bella snorted. "I know it well."

* * *

When Bella got home at three-thirty, she was too jazzed on java to take a nap. She figured it was for the best – she'd be able to sleep for a solid ten hours that night before going in to the shop and maybe get on an even keel schedule-wise. So, she took a shower, did her hair in a soft twist, and even painted her toenails before picking up her phone and calling Jake.

"House of Pies," he answered with a very bad Brooklyn accent.

"I'll have a cherry to go. With whipped cream."

"Sorry, we don't do takeout orders. I can only deliver."

"Well come on over, then, and bring enough for two."

He laughed and hung up.

"How did you know where I live?" she demanded when she opened the door five minutes later.

"I looked at your job application, genius."

"That's creepy and wrong. You could have just asked."

"Why?"

"It would have been more polite."

"I'm rarely polite, Bella."

"Point taken. Okay, where are we heading?" She shrugged on her jacket and slung her purse over her shoulder.

"I thought you might want to head down to Pike Place Market. There are lots of places to eat, and it's fun to walk around. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great. Lead the way, Bigfoot."

* * *

On paper, it was a great date.

After watching the guys throwing the fish, letting Jake buy her a gigantic sunflower, wandering around the marketplace, and sitting down to a completely sinful Florentine crepe with fresh strawberries on the side, Bella leaned back and regarded Jake with a dispassionate stare.

"What?" he asked nervously, wiping at his lips. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No. I'm trying to figure you out."

"Yeah? You making any progress with that?"

She slowly shook her head.

It was a delicate operation. But having been forewarned by Esme's bombshell about Jake's extracurricular activities at the pediatrician's office – _and God, didn't that just sound terrible_ – she already knew that Jake really wasn't interested in her. However, there was no way she could just come right out and say it, since she had promised Esme. And if she claimed that a little birdie told her, Jake would be smart enough to figure out who had spilled the beans.

"What do you want to know? I'm a Capricorn, I use Old Spice body wash, I work on cars in my spare time, and I like redheads." He winked at her.

"Uh-huh." Bella took a slow bite of her crepe and chewed contemplatively.

"Bella, you're creeping me out."

"Why did you ask me out, Jake?"

He blinked. "Uh…is this a trick question?"

"Yeah. The trick is that you've got to tell the truth."

She could see him blushing under his dark skin. She _so_ had him.

"I, uh, I really enjoyed hanging out with you the past couple of weeks. I wanted to get to know you better."

"That's cool. I'd like to get to know you better, too. But that's not the truth, Jake."

"This is such a weird first date," he mumbled.

"Exactly." Bella leaned forward. "Admit it, Jake. You're not attracted to me."

"What? Sure I am, Bella. You're a beautiful girl."

"Thank you. But you're full of shit."

"Do you always give guys the third degree like this?"

"Only when they obviously have no intention of trying to get into my pants. When I dropped my flower and bent over to pick it up, you didn't even check out my ass."

"Dude, Bella!" Jake covered his face.

"Spill!"

"I…I don't know what you're –"

"Spill it, Jake, or I'll get the fish guys to pelt you with halibut."

"Aaaagh!" Jake dropped his head into his arms. "You are a horrible woman!"

"Spiiiiilll…"

"Okay, okay!" He kept his head buried, which muffled his voice. "The truth is that I'm an appalling, disgusting person."

Bella smiled. Victory was sweet.

"You are not, Jake," she said gently, reaching over and ruffling his hair. "You are freakishly large, and you need to offer me a dollar more an hour, but other than that you're basically a good guy. So what's the deal?"

"There's this girl," he mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"I mean, like, a _girl_. I think she's about twenty. Ever since I met her, I've been nuts."

"Hmmm." Bella was having trouble not bursting out into giggles. Men were so cute sometimes.

"She's beautiful, and she's sweet, and she's smart…I mean, basically, she's every girl I've ever been attracted to, right? But there's something different about her. She, like, _pulls_ at me. The longer I go without seeing her, the crazier I feel. Like there's this hole in my chest, you know? And she fills it up."

"Sounds like a crush, Jake."

"That's because I can't describe it right. I feel like…there used to be a hundred things that were important to me. My dad, my friends, the bar, my sixty-seven Mustang. Bills. The Mariners. Sex. All these things used to matter, right? But now…well, they still sorta matter, but the main thing is her. Nothing is important unless she's happy, and she's safe, and she's nearby. As long as she's okay, then life can go on. But life can't go on unless I'm one hundred percent sure."

"Wow." Bella leaned her head on her hand. "That's really sweet, Jake. You should write Hallmark cards."

He rolled his head to the side and glared at her with one eye.

"Sorry. But seriously, you should write that down in a love letter. Deliver it with a dozen roses. She'll be Jello. Strawberry Jello. With whipped cream."

"I can't, Bella. She doesn't even know I exist. And she's just a baby. I mean, I have these dreams…about her…but I wake up and I feel like a total perv. I should be in prison. In the orange jumpsuit, making license plates."

"Jake," she said, holding back her giggles. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not like you're planning on abducting her and locking her in your basement."

"I haven't ruled it out."

"You might hold off on that until later in the relationship." Bella took a bite out of a gigantic strawberry and groaned. "You should have some of these, Jake. They're incredible."

"You mock my pain."

"Yes. Yes, I do. I apologize. It's just that…you're blowing this all out of proportion, Jake. Ask her out for coffee. Make sure she's legal, then send her flowers. But not sunflowers." She took the large blossom he'd given her and tapped his head. "Those are just for me."

"I can't, Bella. What if she's totally grossed out by the old creepy guy hitting on her?"

"Then life goes on. And no more with the asking random girls out and breaking their hearts."

He snickered. "Bella, if you're heartbroken, then I'm Wallace Shawn."

"Granted. But only because I'm too smart to fall for your fatal charm." She polished off her crepe and popped the last strawberry into her mouth. "What is this fairy princess's name, anyway?"

"Nessie." He sighed.

"Cute. Come on, Romeo. You owe me a game of Skee Ball."

* * *

_Just to let you know, the Twinklings Walk of Fame Awards are going on now at .. _The Audacity of Change _and_ For Whom the Bell Tolls_ are both nominees. Get out the vote!_


	5. Only in Dreams

The Muses of ice and of fire

Are attendant on Stephenie Meyer

We disclaim to infringe on her talents and rights

We only intend to admire.

* * *

_Surprise! I bet that most of you have written this fic off as flounced. I admit that I haven't written on it for over a year, but I have a bunch of chapters saved up for posting. I'm hoping that your reviews will inspire me to write some more. This is a shameless plea for reviews, yes._

_Now that _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ is finished, my brain is the plot bunnies' playground. I have several other stories I'm thinking of, but I felt I owed it to the few people who were interested in this story to at least give it a shot._

_I haven't decided if I will continue to post on Twilighted. The wait to get things validated has begun to annoy me. Sorry, ladies, I know there's a reason for it..._

* * *

As Bella was pounding Jake's ass at the arcade at Seaside Park, Edward was pounding on his piano, writing another song about Pink Panties.

_You have to find out her real name. She's not a seventies French detective movie. What if you're talking to her someday and that shit pops out?_

_I'm not going to be talking to her. Ever. She doesn't need to be hit on by skeezy stalker guy. And I'm not going to be spying on her any more._

_Yeah? So why haven't you moved your camera away from her window?_

"Fuck," he muttered, resting his forehead briefly on the keys. A discordant _clang_ sounded throughout the apartment, ruining the groove he had going.

Images of her sprawled out on her couch swamped him. Her pretty auburn hair, halfway escaped from its ponytail, feathering over her cheek. Her hands tucked under the throw pillow she had scrunched under her head. The way her shirt rode up high on her ribs, exposing a wide strip of pale skin.

The morning after the gig, he had wandered out into the living room at five-thirty, unable to sleep. The eastern sky had just begun to grow pink. He had given into temptation and peered through the viewfinder of the camera, which was still trained on her window. He had looked in on her a couple of times. Her apartment had been dark each time.

He was surprised to see that the overhead light in her living room was on. Even more so when he saw that she was passed out on her couch, fully dressed.

He frowned. If she had gotten home from her job at Jake's an hour after closing, say, three o'clock, she should definitely be in bed.

"I'd be more than happy to tuck you in, gorgeous," he whispered to the empty apartment, making a minute adjustment to the camera's focus. He fantasized briefly about gathering her up in his arms – she would snuggle into the nook of his shoulder and burrow her nose in his chest – and laying her down in the middle of the bed. His bed. He wasn't sure how they made it from her couch to his apartment, but he didn't dwell on that. He imagined divesting her of her uncomfortable and unnecessary clothes. He'd put her in one of his shirts – one of the old, soft ones that he liked to wear while lounging around the apartment. Not because he felt like she needed to cover up, but because he didn't want her to be cold. He considered putting her in some boxers too, but he eschewed that idea in favor of the pink panties that she was so conveniently wearing. Little satiny things that rode low on her hips and showed just a hint of the dent above her bottom –

_Cut it out, Edward._

He bit his lip, hard, and wrenched away from the camera. Pink Panties was still mostly clothed in his little fantasy world, but he was already breathing hard. Some other things were getting hard, too. Groaning, he leaned against the window pane and located her window. He could see that her light was on, and that she was on the couch, but the finer details were too hard to make out.

The place was a lot neater than it had been the last time he'd peeked. No more cardboard boxes or wads of newspaper sitting around. There were still stacks of books and bedsheets and stuff piled here and there, though. He could see a whole section of the kitchen counter was covered in pots and pans.

She had hung some of her pictures, which made the place look much homier than it had before. Most of them looked like photos of family and friends. A large one of a wedding party hung over the fireplace.

_Are you married, gorgeous?_

He didn't think so. He'd involuntarily checked out her ring finger the night that she'd served him a beer, and it had been bare. There had been a wide silver-colored band on her middle left finger, though. Maybe she was separated. Getting a divorce.

But if that was the case, she probably wouldn't have her wedding picture displayed so prominently in her new apartment.

Several art prints were interspersed between the pictures. He was pleased to see that he didn't recognize any of them. No tired copies of Klimt's _The Kiss_ or Van Gough's _Starry Night_ for her. He and Jasper used to keep track of how many of their dates had those pictures on their dorm room walls.

He thought of shooting her.

Sepia, he thought, thinking that black and white would be too cold for her. He'd start with some outdoor shots. He'd pose her in a meadow, with tall grass and wildflowers all around. Have her lay on her stomach with her feet in the air, crossed at the ankle. Reading a book.

Then he'd turn her over and have her looking up at the camera, her hair fanned out beneath her. Her arms splayed out above her head.

He thought about teasing her out of her shirt and laying her on her side with her back to him. Her jeans riding low on her hips, her bra straps dark against her white skin. Peeking over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow arched.

He forgot about the camera and imagined spooning up behind her, running his hands over her abdomen and letting his fingers dip down into her jeans. He thought about kissing her neck, making her head fall back and her hair spill over his arm. He thought about easing his knee between her thighs and pushing her pelvis back against him, letting her feel how hard he was, rotating his hips against her luscious ass –

_Stop it, Edward!_

He came back to himself with a start. He had unfastened the button of his jeans and was gripping himself hard, his hips moving in the manner that he had been contemplating trying on Pink Panties' oh-so-unaware body.

_You cannot jack off while peeking into that girl's apartment. It's like an episode of _Law & Order: SVU_. Go find some internet porn and get yourself off like a normal person._

This had taken place three days ago. And while he had obeyed his conscience and stayed away from the window while seeing to his baser needs, images of her had sneaked unbidden into his brain anyway.

He was so fucked.

Jasper noticed, damn him. Jasper always noticed shit like that. It was like the guy had some kind of an angst radar. They'd met for breakfast that morning, and after his pancakes and Jasper's grits had arrived, the interrogation had begun.

"So, what's her name?"

There was no point in prevaricating. "I don't know."

"You going to talk to her?"

"Probably not."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"What you don't know seems to be a lot."

"Yeah."

Jasper snickered. He actually fucking _giggled_. Edward glared at him.

"I'm sorry," his best friend and bandmate covered his mouth. "It's just that you're usually much more fun to tease. She must be something else."

"Yeah." Edward speared a piece of pancake with his fork and lifted it, rotating it slowly to let the syrup soak into every part of it. "I saw Jake Black flirting with her. I wonder if they're dating."

"Okay…change of subject, I guess. I got us a gig at a little coffee shop nearby. They're having some kind of art open house and wanted some acoustic stuff. Just guitars. Not a lot of money, but we can sell some CDs, maybe get some good tips."

"That's fine. You know I don't care about that stuff. You okay on your rent, man?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Gramma sent me some money last week. She loves having a starving artist in the family."

"One of these days you're going to have to get a real job, Jazz."

"Not until it's absolutely necessary, though." Jasper winked at him. "Maybe I'll meet a hot girl with a rich daddy who wants to see her name up in lights."

"Good luck with that."

Jasper picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I need to go by there and check things out. See you at your place tonight?"

"Yeah. I got the check, go on."

"Later, man."

Jasper clapped him hard on the shoulder as he sauntered out. Edward hissed and kicked at him, but missed. "Jackass," he muttered.

* * *

"So what are we going to do about this?"

Esme looked up from the soy latte she was making. "Do about what?"

"Jake and Nessie. We can't leave him to his misery. He's like a beached baby whale. All gigantic and pitiful."

"Well, I suppose minding our own business is out of the question."

"It is." Bella leaned up against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. "We could break his leg. Make a paint can or something fall from the rafters and hit him on the head. Then we can rush him to Carlisle's office while Nessie's working –"

"And while my _pediatrician_ husband is calling 911 and bitching me out for being so stupid, Nessie will be dealing with a large angry dude who's totally humiliated and in pain in front of the love of his life. Next plan."

"I see your point." Bella frowned. "Jake works on cars, right? We can break Nessie's car and ask him to come look at it."

"Nessie doesn't have a car. She rides her bike."

"I bet Jake could work on bikes, too."

"So can she. She's competed in bike races."

"Shit. I hate competent women." Bella pouted.

"Bella, why don't we drop all the cloak and dagger and just take her out drinking?"

Bella's mouth opened. And closed.

"She just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. I'll get the girls in the office together and we'll bring her to Jake's for a little late celebration."

"You are brilliant. A genius. Right now someone is composing an ode to your greatness. When are we going to do this?"

"I'll do some recon as soon as I get off." Esme checked her watch. "Alice should be here in fifteen minutes or so."

"Right on. We should invite her, too. She would be all over this."

"Uh, I don't know, Bella. Getting Alice drunk is kind of like playing tag with a hummingbird. A really loud, obnoxious hummingbird."

"Nice visual," a new voice said. They looked up. A tall blond man with lazy, hooded gray eyes was leaning on the counter.

"Oh," Bella said in surprise. "Hi. What can we get for you?"

"The keys to your heart, darlin'. Anything beyond that is negotiable." His Southern drawl made it sound like he was offering to cover her in hot fudge and take his time licking it all off.

She gaped at him.

"I'm Jasper Whitlock," he said, holding out his hand.

"Oh!" Esme wiped her hands on a towel. "You're here about the open house next week. I'm Esme Cullen. We spoke on the phone."

He winked at her. "Pleasure, ma'am. Just came by to check out the venue and introduce myself." His eyes shifted back to Bella. "And what's your name, pretty lady?"

Bella cleared her throat and finally took the hand that he was still holding out to her. "Um…Bella Swan."

He smiled down at her, squeezing her hand warmly. "Delighted to meet you, Miss Swan. May I call you Bella?"

"Of course." She could feel her cheeks heating, but couldn't suppress a smile. _What a playa_, she thought to herself.

"So, what did you lovely ladies have in mind for this exhibition of yours?" Jasper was still holding her hand, rubbing his thumb slowly over her knuckles.

"Um…" Esme coughed, trying to smother a giggle. "Some atmosphere music, really. The artist who's doing the show does landscapes, mostly ocean and forest scenes. She's very bohemian, quiet, elegant. That's kind of the vibe we're looking for."

"Sounds like fun." Jasper looked around, still playing idly with Bella's hand. She wondered if he planned to give it back. "Could we set up in that corner over there?"

"Sure. We'll get rid of about half the tables so there's room to move. We have a small platform that we've used in the past."

"Wood?"

"Carpeted."

"Perfect." He drew the word out, peeking at Bella flirtatiously. "We'll have a six string and a twelve string, and we'll both sing. Unplugged. For a couple of songs one of us will drop out and play a little light percussion. Tambourine, egg shaker. Nothing too loud. What's your favorite song, darlin'? Eddie and I take all requests from pretty ladies."

"Hmmm." Bella tipped her head to the side. "You know any Matt Nathanson?"

"Honey, I own Matt Nathanson."

"Really. Not much for that old Thirteenth Amendment thing, huh?"

He laughed. "We'll take him out for a spin at the show."

Esme cleared her throat again. "Well, I see Alice pulling up, so I'm going to take off, Bella. I'll let you know about going out."

"Much as I hate to admit, I have to be running along myself," Jasper said. "May I walk you out, ma'am?"

Esme rolled her eyes. "If you must. Bye, Bella."

"Bye." Bella blushed again at Jasper's wink and watched as he held the door open for Esme. She kept her eye on him, giggling when he nearly tripped over a crack in the asphalt checking out Alice as she walked past him.

"Hey," Alice said when she came inside. "What's up?"

"Oh, Esme and I just got swept off our feet by Rhett Butler's little brother."

"That tall piece of caramel goodness in the parking lot?" Alice grinned. "Nice."

"He's playing for that art show next week."

"Oh, damn!" Alice stuck out her lower lip, tossing her purse under the counter. "I'm not going to be here. I have dinner with my parents in Bellevue."

"So sorry." Bella smirked at her.

"So tell," Alice said abruptly, throwing on her apron. "How was your date with Jake?"

"Oh…" Bella rolled her eyes. "It was great, wonderful, awesome. And Esme and I have plans to set him up with jailbait. Are you in?"

Alice's eyes went wide. "Start at the beginning, sista!"

"Well, apparently he's falling all over himself for this chick named Nessie…"

* * *

In other news, I have to tell you a secret. Since I began this story, I have learned who "Mary Sue" is. This Bella is dangerously similar to such a creature. Her life experience is very much like mine, except that she's further along in her journey. And she's got Bella's personality, not mine. As we continue with her story, you will pick up on what I'm talking about. But if this particular cliche drives you up the proverbial wall, well...sorry. Runs and hides


	6. Let's Get it Started

The Muses of ice and of fire

Are attendant on Stephenie Meyer

We disclaim to infringe on her talents and rights

We only intend to admire.

* * *

As Bella predicted, Alice was quite enthusiastic about the plan to take Nessie out drinking.

"We should go over there sometime this week and introduce ourselves," she said, talking at top speed. "And invite her here to get to know her. And we should all come over to my place and get ready."

"Easy, there, turbo," Bella said soothingly. "All in good time. First we have to see them interact together. Esme said that she likes him, but I don't think she's thought of him in _that_ way just yet. We can't rush the process."

"Why not?" Alice pouted. "Life is short."

"True. But a little recon never hurt anyone."

"Okay, fine. But I'm going over to Carlisle's office after we close. You wanna come?"

"Can't. I'm going over to my coworker Rosalie's place this evening."

"Cool. She's the manager over there, right?" Alice got a faraway look in her eye. "Maybe she'd jump on board, too."

"Uh, I don't think Rosalie's the matchmaking type."

"Oh? What type is she?"

"The…um, the scary ball-buster type. I'm still kind of stunned that she asked me over. Most of the time she looks like she hates the universe and all its minions."

"Oh." Alice looked at her dubiously. "Well, good luck with that."

The shop stayed steady until six o'clock, ruining Alice's chance to swing by the doctor's office. So, when Rosalie called Bella at six-thirty, she and Alice were still closing.

"You ready, girl? I got nachos and tequila."

"Uh, I'm still at work. Would you mind picking me up here? You know where Ike's is, right?"

"Sho 'nuff. I'll be there in ten."

Alice was just putting away the mop bucket and locking the storage room when Rosalie pulled up.

"Wow," Bella said, peeking through the window.

"What?"

"Rosalie has…a hot car."

"Lemme see." Alice crowded up next to her. "Wow."

It was red. It was a convertible. And the little logo thingy on the hood said BMW.

Alice all but dropped to the ground, though, when Rosalie stepped out.

Bella was still laughing at her when she unlocked the door and ushered her out.

"Hey, Rosalie," she said, locking the door behind her. "This is my friend Alice. She likes your car."

"I like your hair better," Alice breathed. "Is it natural?"

Rosalie laughed. "Everything but the color. Nice to meet you."

"I would kill to play with your hair. It looks so thick and strong."

"You busy tonight? I'm giving Bella some remedial makeup lessons. We can make a thing of it."

Bella hid her surprise. Rosalie, who looked like Marisa Miller and acted like Lorena Helmsley, had done it again.

"Sure!" Alice all but jumped up and down. "Can we stop by my place and get supplies?"

"Make it fast, Tinkerbell. I gots no time for screwing around."

•••

An hour later, all three of them were well on their way to being drunk. Rosalie made some mean nachos for a white girl, but Bella knew how to make margaritas like a Latin goddess. After her second helping, Alice declared that she had a girl crush on Rosalie, Rosalie acknowledged that she might go lesbian for Bella, and Bella was laughing so hard that she fell off of the couch and was rolling around on the ground.

"Come on!" Alice jumped on Bella's back and pounded her shoulders. "You're supposed to say that you dream about feeling me up in the store room. That would make it…make it…a nice round…thing." She hiccupped. "You know, because I want Rosalie, and Rosalie wants you, and so… you want me!"

"No, I don't!" Bella gasped, giggling hysterically. "You will never have me, you pixie perv!"

"Admit it," Rosalie said, swigging on her margarita. "You'd go down on her in a heartbeat. I could tell the moment I met you. You crave pixie pussy."

"No! I crave Edward Masen pussy. I mean…Medward Asen…what's the opposite of pussy?"

"Oooh!" Alice rolled off of Bella and grabbed for the nachos. "What's a Medward Asen? Does it come in my size?"

"The only thing that comes in your size is Verne Troyer," Rose said majestically.

"I shall call her…Mini Pixie," Bella wheezed, and cracked up again.

"Shut up! Who's Medward Asen, you slut? Have you done him yet?"

"No," Bella sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "He doesn't know I'm alive. He thinks I'm radioactive waste."

"Well, if he thinks you're radioactive waste, then by default he must know you're alive," Rosalie said, sliding down onto the floor next to them. "Or at least that you exist. So that's a good thing."

"I try to keep my eye open for radioactive waste at all times," Alice agreed, nodding empathetically. "So he must at least know you exist."

"I'm Invisible Waitress Girl," Bella said mournfully.

Rosalie snorted. "Oh, whatever."

"He glared at me. And asked for a Sam Adams."

"There, you see?" Alice clapped her hands. "I would never ask radioactive waste for a beer! What if it was contaminated?"

"Shut up about the radioactive waste," Rosalie snapped. "Listen, Bellsie. I've had to beat the shit out of five different guys this week who asked me for your number."

"What? Why?" Bella gasped, sitting up on one elbow.

"Were any of them hot?" Alice inquired.

"No, they were all losers."

"Oh." Bella flopped back down. "See? I attract losers. I am a loser magnet."

"Better than being radioactive waste," Alice said.

"Shut up! The ones that I didn't beat the shit out of I told to grow a pair and ask you themselves. I pimp for no one." Rosalie stretched her arms above her head. "Jake's just the first of many, my girl. You mark my words."

"Speaking of," Alice said, "What have you heard about this Nessie chick, Rosie-posie?"

"Never call me that again. And I have not heard. Who is she?"

"Jake's true love," Bella sighed, her hand over her heart. "We're going to get them hooked up."

"I thought Jake was into you," Rosalie said. "Jackass. Is he playing you?"

"Nah, he's just confused and emo. We're going to bring her to the bar and get her drunk. Wanna play?"

"Sure. I'll fix the schedule so we're both off. Now, get in that bathroom and wash your face, bitch. It's makeover time."

•••

"Dude, Edward, I'm so in love. There's this girl down at that coffee shop who smells like sex and lattes. We gotta practice."

Edward snorted and continued tuning his guitar. "That's why we're here, son. Did you finish that song yet?"

"Yeah. It needs your magic touch, though. Gimme some of that twelve-string action." Jasper pulled out his own instrument and sat down on the couch across from Edward. "You recording this?"

"Sure." Edward noodled for a few more seconds, then, satisfied with his tuneage, set the twelve-string down on his chair and went over to power up his Mac to record their session.

"She heard us at that bar last week, and she liked us," Jasper was saying. "Well, at least she said she liked us. I turned up the Southern for her – she's got this adorable blush. I can't wait for this damn show. I might take up drinking coffee."

"Would you shut the hell up and tune? If you want to sweep this chick off her feet, we got some work to do."

"Sure. Fine." Jasper turned on his electric tuner. He hated that Edward could tune by ear. _Fucking perfect pitch jackass._ "She's got these brown eyes like a Van Morrison song –"

"Get to work!" Edward barked, picking up his instrument and sitting down.

"Jeez, what's your problem?" Jasper frowned at him. "Find out your crushie has a boyfriend?"

"No," Edward mumbled. "I went to the bar last night and she wasn't there. Jake sure was in a good mood, though."

"Jake, the owner? The one you saw flirting with her?"

"Yeah." Edward sighed. "All right, let's start with _Satellite_. On four."

They played and transposed and wrote a verse or two and played some more. It was getting near midnight when they called a beer break.

"So what does she look like? This mystery girl of yours?"

Edward sighed, leaning up against the kitchen counter and taking a long swig of his beer."'Bout five-five. Skin like silk. Great figure. Absolutely fucking fantastic ass." He held his beer up to his forehead, as if the cold glass would cool his lust. "I don't even know her name, but I have these fantasies about her. It's completely pathetic."

"It is. She cute?"

"Beautiful. But she doesn't show it off, you know? She wears these hot little fitted tee shirts that just hug her…" Edward groaned. "Except one time I saw her from far off, and she was wearing a tank top." He wasn't about to tell Jasper that he'd been spying on the poor girl through a telephoto lens. Jasper would kick his ass straight to Canada. And then he'd call Edward's mother, who would fucking castrate him.

"Huh." Jasper gazed at him steadily.

"What?" Edward asked nervously. Damn, if Jasper suspected he was a freaking stalker in training, shit would go down.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "You wrote that song about her, didn't you?"

Edward could feel himself flushing. "What song?"

"That Daughtry-sounding shit you played at the bar. The one in G minor."

"Dude, half of my songs are in G minor."

"You know which one I mean."

"I refuse to implicate myself. Come on, crack the whip,man."

•••

_This behavior just screams "intervention."_

Edward was developing a sore neck from the number of times that he had peeked through the viewfinder of his camera in the past week. A couple times a day. Sometimes a couple times an hour. But today was the first day he'd seen her since the night she'd spent passed out on her couch.

It was early in the evening. When he'd first looked, she was doing Pilates or yoga or some shit in the middle of her living room. She would stand straight as a board, then raise her arms over her head like she was about to jump off a high dive. Then she would do something that looked painful and debilitating, such as that crazy hold-her-foot-over-her-head thing that he'd seen her do the first time he saw her. Or she'd go into a deep lunge with her arms out to her sides, like she was getting ready to take flight.

It got really interesting when she moved over to the kitchen table and stood with her feet apart and her legs straight, then bent forward at the waist and rested her arms on the tabletop. She arched her back and stuck her ass out, and Edward nearly bit his tongue off, imagining standing behind her and pushing those tight black yoga pants down her hips and sinking himself down to the fucking hilt.

When she was done twisting herself into sexy little knots, she went and made herself some kind of stir-fry dinner, chopping and slicing and wokking stuff together, then sitting down on the couch and watching NCIS as she ate. When she was done she went and washed her dishes, then dithered around doing pretty much nothing – opening her mail and throwing most of it in the recycling, watering some plants, opening up a black laptop and messing with that for a while. She got distracted for an hour at nine o'clock when the Daily Show and the Colbert Report came on. He bolted into his living room and turned on Comedy Central, then tried to pay attention to the shows and watch her at the same time. She laughed uproariously at several bits.

_Smart, good sense of humor, politically liberal. Limber like a cat. Shit, I am so fucked._

At ten, she turned off the TV and turned on a docked iPod for a while. She seemed to be very slowly working her way towards bedtime – she wandered into the bedroom and came out a while later in an adorable pajama set, pants and a camisole printed with some cutesy design he couldn't make out. Then she found her phone and plugged it into a charger. Then she wandered off and came back with her hair down, brushing it absently and then standing in front of a little mirror in the living room for a while, running her fingers through it, gathering it into ponytails in various places around her head, mussing it with her hands and scrunching it up. Then she brushed it again and put it back in the ponytail. Next, she wandered off into what he had identified as the bathroom and came back brushing her teeth. At this point she started dancing, doing a haphazard mambo around the living room, one arm in the air and the other on her toothbrush.

It was cute as hell, and so sexy that Edward felt sweat trickling down his temples. She looked so carefree and confident, completely at ease with herself and her little world. With no idea that creepy voyeur Edward was watching her every move.

She disappeared into the bathroom again and came out with her face looking shiny and damp. Now she turned off the iPod, shut off the lamps around the apartment, and Edward's last glimpse of her was as she switched off a table lamp, its golden light illuminating her face and form for a short moment before she was shrouded in darkness.

It had been over three hours that he'd watched her. His back and his cock aching, he flung himself into his armchair and rubbed his eyes, wondering how in the hell he was going to quit her. He couldn't keep doing this.

But he couldn't seem to stop.

* * *

In other news, I am getting ready to submit a prologue for a new story to the Fandom For Heroes Compilation, fandom4heroes . blogspot . com/. The story is called _The Ghost of Cullen House_ and it's - surprise - an Edward/Bella romance. If you would like to read the prologue, please consider donating to this awesome cause to support men and women in uniform. The prologue will only be available in the compilation.

Happy Valentine's Day!


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